THe Mistwise Traveler
by Mordak
Summary: Melding the dark personalities of Ravenloft with my own, sinister characters. Takes place post Conjunction. the Ravenloft characters are the property of their respective owners. decidedly noncanon. Please R
1. Chapter 1

Jaqueline Montarri wandered through the dark, forbidding expanses of the mansion. She had received a letter, promising riches, and, dutiful to her goals of the self and self alone, had followed the instructions that had led her here. The mansion had not shown up on any maps, and was off a style that she was unfamiliar with. She was, perhaps for the first time since her transformation, apprehensive. Not only was the castle unknown to her, it was in a land that she was also unaware of, a rarity in the Core Domains. And yet, there was something familiar about this land, this Arkadee, that she couldn't put her finger on. Despite her misgivings, she had come here, trusting in her unique talents to survive whatever lay within the Tower of Kings. 

As ever, she was dressed to impress, red and black silk bodice showing plenty of leg and cleavage, with her usual ribbon around her neck. Tucked into her boot was a dagger, kept wickedly sharp and in good condition. On her belt was her trademark vorpal sword, ready to add to her collection if things took to that direction. Over her shoulders she wore a long cloak, to keep out the cold.

She had arrived early, and entered unannounced, encountering no resistance. If anything this made her feel even less sure of her actions, the last time she had been in similar circumstances coming to mind, when her fate had been sealed in Castle Ravenloft. That had been yeas ago, of course, and she had...grown somewhat, had learnt her lesson, as it were. She smiled. Let this mysterious contact try something, she would deal with it as she always had, through stealth and cunning.

"Ah, Miss Montarri, you are here, and only a trifle earlier than I asked. Well done!" came a voice behind her, like leaf litter and dark chocolate, full of promise and a hint of a threat. She tried to cover her surprise, to mask it with coquettish behaviour and a flirtatious demeanour, and turned to the source.

In the first time in what must have been decades now, she found herself unable to speak, found her breath stolen by the sight she saw before her. She had expected a minor noble, and had, perhaps, hoped that he might be moderately attractive, worthy of a dalliance, nothing more. Instead, she found herself confronted with a vision, inhuman in his perfection. He stood close to seven feet tall, with wide shoulders. His skin was the colour of ebony, and his hair that of bone. his features were sharp and aqualine, his ears long and pointed, with a serrated edge like that of a cruel dagger. Upon his head he bore a thin, black, elegant crown, a single peak jutting above the nose. Underneath each dark eye broke a spiney white horn of bone, sharp and jagged. Upon his chin, four small horns also emerged, and upon the bridge of his nose and where his eybrows whould have been, instead were fine black scales. He smiled, in an almost predatory and mischievous manner, showing sharp, white, overlarge incisors.

his body was covered in ornate black armour, and he bore a long red and black cape that fell from his shoulders elegantly. His hands were protected by intricate gauntlets, each finger bearing a long sharp claw. He flexed his hands a little and Jaqueline could see that the gauntlets moved in an unatural, fluid way, leaving his fingers completely unhindered. As he stepped foreward, she noted that the armour moved in a similar fashion.

"So, have you enjoyed this little unnoficial tour of my palace, unnacompanied as it was?" He laughed a little, chuckling under his breath. "No matter, the next time that you come here it will be completely different." He grasped her arm swiftly, linking his own ith hers in a familiar, intimate guesture. Despite herself, she blushed. "Now, I suppose we should discuss the reason I asked you here. I'm afraid that I was not entirely honest with you. You are not here for riches and gold, but, rather to perform a service for me, and in return, i shall give you something I know that you have long coveted. You see, i know everything about you. I know about all your dreams and aspirations, all your hopes and fears, and, I know about your curse." Her free hand flew reflexively to her throat. He unlinked his arm from her own, and continued to stride forward, not even turning to look at her as he spoke. "Yes, I know it all. I know about the young woman who slew the legendary Madame Eva of the Vistani in the throws of paranoia and greed and vanity, while searching for immortality, and i know how she was cursed, on her 'death' with a form of immortality, but with a steadily weakening body, and without a head to call her own, and how, if she were ever to find that head, her real head, she would be given true imortality, but as it is now, she must constantly search for attractive women to behead and use their skulls instead of her own, and how those replacement heads soon rot away from her presence. I know everything you know, Miss Montarri, and more." He smiled. "I know where your real head is."

"What! You...you know where it is! Lord, name your price! For that information I would give everything I own and more!"

"I know. it is written on your every movement, your every word. Do not fret, my dear. That missing portion of your body is close at hand. It is in this very Palace, infact."

"Sir, I beg of you, return to me my head, and let me live forever!"

"No."

"What?"

"I said no. You have not performed the service that I contracted you for, and so you may not have your head."

"Of course, lord, my apollogies. What services did you require?"

"I'm not sure yet. Surprise me!"

"You...You can't be serious?!"

"Quite serious, I assure you."

"But if you don't know what you want, why did you contact me?"

"Because it amused me. I'm not so sure that I want to give you your head back now. No, I think I'll keep it. You may leave now."

Seething with rage, she drew her dagger and lunged at his exposed back. Her blade shattered against his armour, and he stopped walking, and sighed.

"So predictable. I said surprise me, you pathetic little sneakthief!" He whirled upon her, lashing out with an open hand. She stumbled back, hand to her face, feeling the deep cuts that his clawed hand left behind. "I knew from the start what your reaction would be, and you have not dissapointed me in the least." He grasped her hair, and pulled her up, bodily, so that she dangled in his grasp. she let out a cry of pain. "Oh, do shut up, you worthless little harlot! It is no less than the pain that you inflicted on countless young women, and for no less a petty reason. You exist because of misery. You take and take and take, and provide nothing of worth in return, leaving only sorrow and heartbreak in return. I suppose the Vistani are to blame as well, but YOU brought your curse down upon you, not they. It is your own actions that has left you this way." His free hand moved up to her neck, to the ribbon that held her surrogate head in place. With a swift movement, he removed it, allowing her body to fall to the ground. Despite her lack of sensory organs, she could see and hear well, a minor side affect of the curse. He toyed with the ribbon in his hands, leaving the discarded head to one side. "To think of all the pain and suffering that this ribbon has been the cause of, so delicate, so pretty." he lashed out at her with a foot, catching her as she attempted to crawl back to the head. He pinned her easily, despite her struggles. "No, I think that you're going to want to watch this, my dear." Without the slightest outwards sign of dificulty, he snapped the ribbon, previously unbreakable and uneffected by even the strongest magic. Despite her lack of vocal cords, she let out an earplitting roar of pain and frustration, and clawed ineffectually at his foot. he leant down close to her, and hissed softly "I was going to let you live, slowly fading away into nothingness, but I have decided to be generous" he grasped her neck-stump, tightly, and she felt a burning pain like she had never felt before, then nothing. she slumped to the ground, her struggling ceasing, her life ended at last. Without the slightest sign of concern or remorse, he stood up, casually stepping away from her cooling body. He waved distractedly behind him as he walked away, and a rustling shadow enveloped the corpse. He smiled to himself. He would have liked to be able to say that he had killed her because he wished to grant release to the souls of the women she had claimed, and, in a way it was true, insomuch as he considered all women on this plane his property, and, as such, had a proprietary stake in their wellbeing, but that wasn't the real reason that he had killed her. It was simple. She had sought perfection elsewhere, had not come to him for his gifts. The fact that she hadn't known about him, that he had, until this point decided to keep his identity secret from all the inhabitants of the Dread Realms, mattered not. It was the principle of the thing. he paused, eyes closed, and contemplated the next move, feeling the threads that connect each person, each event, together, testing their strengths and weaknesses. Satisfied, he opened his eyes, and smiled again. Of course, it made sense to start at the beginning.


	2. Chapter 2

Strahd awoke in his coffin, and considered what he would do for the evening, perhaps dally with a young maiden, perhaps further his understanding of the dark arts. Eternal 'life' could be awfully freeing in that respect, giving him practically limitless time to explore many facets of existence that, previously, he had ignored, or merely dabbled in. When he had first gone over to the night, his power as a spellcaster had been dwarfed by his prowess as a seasoned campaigner and soldier. Now, his wizardry was amongst the strongest in the realms, and his physical power, while impressive, was now secondary to his arcana.

He stalked through the halls of Castle Ravenloft, his stronghold, secure in the knowledge that no-one could enter it's doors without his knowing about it, a fact that many so called 'heroes' had wished that they knew about in the brief instants before their deaths. Over the years, many had comwe here to finally put an end to 'The devil Strahd', and free the land of Barovia from his clutches. All had perished, and most had risen as undying servitors, zombies and skeletons, or, in rare cases, vampires like himself. Only once in his centuries of rule had any come close, that blasted Jander Sunstar, an elven vampire with a mortal's conscience, and he had been destroyed in the attempt, but had only succeeded in grievously wounding Strahd. Time soon took care of those wounds. He had heard that Jander had returned to unlife of recent years, but he had not persued his onetime ally, for fear of the outcome.

Somewhere up ahead, he could hear the loud roar of another's laughter. He frowned. He had not detected anyones presence in his castle, except his fawning servitors, and this didn't sound like any of them. With purpose, he strode deaper into his castle, eventually nearing his secret study. Rage began to bubble under his skin. How dare they!? His sanctum was private, and few but himself even new of it's existence. How had they opened the door? The spells woven into the door had been strong, and dificult to dispel. He swept the door open, to confront his erstwhile intruder.

Whoever it was had made themselves very comfortable, with several bottles of wine empty on the floor. They had put their feet up on the desk, and were leaning back against an old comfortable chair, book obscuring their face. Strahd's expression darkened even further when he saw the title of the book, 'I, Strahd.' His private journal. The intruder let out a sudden laugh, and turned over a page.

"Oh, Strahd, seriously, is this how you remeber everything?" Something about the voice made Strahd pause. It was...familiar, something from his former life perhaps? The fellow lowered the book now and looked Strahd in the eye.

It was like looking into a mirror image of his past, his cruelly handsome features reflected back, softer, and kinder than he ever was.

"Sergei?" And, indeed, it was. His long dead brother, whom he had loved, and betrayed cruelly and callously for the love of Tatyana, his brothers bride to be.

"Hello, Brother"

"But, But how is this possible?"

"Ah, Strahd, don't you know that anything is possible, here, in this place?"

"So, I suppose you are here for revenge?"

"What, for killing me and drinking my blood and driving my fiance to her death? Not at all. All water under the bridge now, surely!"

"You, you cannot be serious."

"I most assuredly am. I no longer have anything in my heart even approaching anger, or hate. You should try dying, I mean really dying, sometimes. It's refreshing."

"Sergei, how, I mean, how did you come back? Why?"

"I'm not sure how, I just remember feeling something for the first time in an eternity, and I realised that I was alive again. As for why, well, I think you know that, don't you, Eldest?" he sighed at Strahd's obvious displeasure at the term. "I'm here to ask you to let go. You are adamant that you love Tatyana, yes?"

"Of course! with all that is left of my heart and soul!"

"Then let her go. Your continued obsession has tethered her soul to this dimension, but you will never truly have her heart. she will always turn from you at the last minute, despite your dominance and charm, despite your proffesion of love and adoration, and she will die, and your sorrow and rage will trap her soul here again. Let her rest in peace, brother, and maybe, you will find peace as well."

"Never! You are wrong, and intentionally so! You just want her for yourself, but that shall never be! I killed you once for her love, and, though it pains me to do it, I will kill you again!" With a snarl, Strahd leapt at his brother. As he neared, his brother lashed out with the back of his hand, sending Strahd crashing to the floor. Sergei sighed.

"Ah, well, I tried. If you had taken my advice, things would have perhaps been better for you." His form wavered, and shifted suddenly. Where once was Sergei, another now stood, dark of skin, white of hair, tall, sharply handsome. He smiled, a slight growl escaping his lips.

Strahd struggled to his feet. "Who are you? Where is Sergei? Has my brother ran like the coward he is, leaving another to fight his battles for him?"

"You fool! Sergei was never here, there was only ever I, and I am an old friend to you, Strahd. Truthfully, it pains me a little that you do not know me, after all I've done for you. Ah, but perhaps you merely do not recognise the form I wear now. Last time we met, oh those many years ago, I wore another skin, one you could not see. We made a bargain, you and I, long ago, and, without my intervention, do you trhink you could have held your power for so long?"

"Inajira?! If that is who you are, you were a fool to come here, truly!"

"How dare you compare me to that stinking little dog-thing! No, the bargain we made was far more important, far more vital. I gave you all that you have now, and assked only for your humanity. Do you realise who I am yet?"

"No, no it cannot be! You, you are Death?!"

"After a fashion. I only came here to offer a warning, and you have spurned it. So be it. It was freely given, and freely spurned." He offered his hand out to Strahd, helping him to his feet once more. "If you had been able to let go, you might have found an exit from these dismal lands, but now you will never leave, not unless the world itself fragments and shatters around you. Strahd, I am not just death. I am change, and dissolution, and darkness and magic and war. If you had accepted my advice, accepted my aid, it would all have ended so much better for you." He leapt backwards, landing on the window ledge. "Now, it won't end, not at all, and you will never gain your love's heart." He collapsed backwards, dissolving into black smoke that curled against the wind, rising high into the sky and distorting into the form of a black claw that clutched at the moon, then dissipated. The sky darkened, impossibly, for a second, as the moon faltered.

The Vistani danced in tribute to the moon, in celebration of an ancient ally, an old friend who had stood constant over them in good and in ill, over their tragedies and their celebrations. As if blinking in acknowledgement of their efforts, the moon became pitch black for a fraction of a second, then lightened. in the wake of it's sudden darkness, the Vistani had gained a new observer, lounging in the the fork of a tall tree, his dark skin contrasting starkly with his white hair. he smirked, revealing the hint of a white fang.

"Very nice, indeed. You really should take your show on the road!" HE roared with laughter at his own joke, the vistany being inveterate travellers of the numerous roads and rivers of the Realms.

"Who, Who are you?"

"Hmm, oh, a friend. I would speak to Madam Eva"

"Who would speak to me?" spoke an old woman by the fire.

He leapt down from the tree, disipating before he hit the ground, and re-appearing at Eva's side.

"You do not know me, Old One, but I have watched over you from afar since you arrived in this land, and I have seen you rise and fall." He reached into his cloak, and retrieved a human head. "I believe that you know Miss Montarri."

"Take that thing from here! It is a thing of evil!" She spat upon the head "Do not lead that Devil here!"

"Look again, look carefully, look within "

Eva paused, and looked at the stranger askance, then stared once more at the head, using the gift of The Sight to see it truly, to see it's history and future. She gasped, and looked again at the stranger, who nodded and smiled gently. She shook her head and blinked seeming confused. "No, no, Grandmother, do not look at me with your True Sight, it won't work, and you will just end up getting hurt." A gasp went up from the camp, and the rustle of rumour emerged. Eva's Sight was the stuff of legends, and for this Giorgio to clame that he was exempt was verging on the scandalous. The only one known to be immune to the powers of the Vistani is the Dukkar, Malochio, and if this stranger bore anything else in common with him, then it bode ill for all concerned. Several of the more martial members of the tribe began to finger the hilt of their weapons.

"What ARE you?"

"Something...different. Unique. For now, just call me an ally. Anyway, must be off. people to see and so forth." He disapeared, not even fading from view, just vanishing in the blink of an eye. The Vistani looked to one another, and, an unspoken agreement went around the camp. If the stranger had wanted, he could have destroyed them without even trying.

Jander Sunstar ran through the dark woods of Barovia in the form of a wolf, a favoured form that he took nightly. In his life he had loved nature, and now, in undeath, he took any opportunity to reconnect. he used to love to tend his garden, but now, in his current vampiric form, his touch killed any form of plantlife. Besides, his hands had been practically destroyed by his handling of the Holy Symbol of Ravenkind, so anything requiring precision was well outside the realms of possibility now. As he ran, seeking animal blood for his stomach, he came across a vast black wolf, it's hide partially scaled and spiked, like the strange dire wolves that seemed to frequent the area.

"Do not fear me, Brother. I am one of you, and not a threat." He spoke into the wolf's mind. It looked at him with sly, dark eyes, and, to his shock, began to laugh, loud and uproriously, like the tinkling of broken glass in a gale. It stopped abruptly, and turned away, running into the dark of the forest. it stopped and looked around at Jander, and motioned with it's head. Jander, doubting his own judgement, ran after it. I t had not smelled like a werewolf, or another vampire. Infact, it had simply smelled like a wolf. Finally after hours of running, they reached a secluded grove, with a languid pool. moths filled the air, fluttering around the nightblooming flowers of the grove. a large twisted tree dropped red apples from it's branches. the strange wolf streatched out and panted. Jander edged closer cautiously. The wolf Turned it's head towards Jander, and Began to speak in lilting tones Jander was shocked to recognise it as the elvish language of his homelands.

"Greetings to you as well, Brother. Welcome to my grove. Sit here and eat of the fruits. Drink of the water, and know that you are welcome here whenever you wish."

"Are you of the people? Are you truly a brother?" Said Jander, in elvish, shedding his wolf form to reveal that of a perfectly built, athletic, muscular Sun Elf.

"In a way, but not, perhaps, in the way that you think." Spoke the wolf, and shook its head. It's hair began to flow and whip aroung his face, growing pale white. It's canine form faded, and in it's place an elf sat, but cast in black. Jander grimmaced, and his eyes narrowed.

"Drow!" He spat. "I am no brother to your kind!"

"Oh, now, is that any way to speak to a friend?"

"I am no friend to you! Who Are you, and where did you come from, Dark Elf?!"

"I am Drakor. I am from everywhere. And I know all about you. I know your pain, Jander. I know that you despair at your vampiric existence, but you fear what your death might bring. I've come, in part to help."

"You would help me? Hah! When has a drow ever helped anyone, but themselves?"

"True, but I am not like other drow. I am not even truly one of them, but this is a form I'm comfortable with, and people find it less disturbing than my true forms. Like the wolf form I wore earlier, it is merely a skin to wear when convenient."

"So, what are you then?"

"I am a unique entity, here, and possibly elswhere. There are no others like me, truly. I am a God, the only one in this world. Present company excepted of course, 'Morninglord'" he let out a little laugh. "I am the only one capable of making any real difference, perhaps because I am the only one that truly exists."

"Such arrogance. You cannot be a god, and to claim that you are the only one is even greater hubris."

"Never the less, there you are. I have come here to give you a gift, a special thing just for you, that will give you some peace at last. I understand your misgivings, but, I assure you, you will thank me." he reached into his cloak, and threw something silver and glittering towards Jander. Instinctively, he grabbed it, and studdied it. It was a silver necklace, and bore the sunburst emblem of the Morninglord, however, instead of the Morninglord's face, at it's centre was another face, bisected vertically. one half was a snarling man with fangs, and the other, the same man, but weeping, a look of peace on his face.

"Wear this for a full 24 hours, and all will be revealed."

"If you think I'm falling for this, your a bigger fool than I thought!"

"Jander! Put! It! ON! NOW!!!" he spoke with force, his eyes blazing red for an instant. Without thinking, Jander found himself slipping the Necklace round his neck. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and tried to remove the necklace. It would not budge, had fused to his skin. He could feel it's tendrils spreading through his body. He sarled and turned to the dark elf, Drakor, but found that he was standing next to him. In the blink of an instant, Drakor had grasped his face by the jaw and looked deep into his eyes. His eyes flared again.

"Sleep." Jander collapsed at his feet. "Sleep, Jander Sunstar, Sleep for a day and a night, here, in this tranquil grove. Sleep, and once more see the dawn!" He began to fade, his eyes dissapearing last.

Jander awoke, and sprang upright, confused at the dimly remebered events of the night before. He was a vampire, and it should have been impossible to simply command him to sleep. he shook his head, and looked down at the necklace. The face was now that of a vampire entirely, resembling his own in the depths of rage. He sighed, and stumbled a little. His stomach was empty, and he needed blood soon, or he would collapse. he sniffed the air for the scent of a hare or some other animal, but couldn't smell anything, except the flowers by the pool, and the ripe, red apples. he picked an apple from the ground, and, despite it's lack of nutritional value to one such as he, bit into it's flesh, savouring the juice as it ran down his throat. It had been centuries since he had tasted an apple. It was glorious, and, though he knew it wouldn't stay down, he revelled in it. he moved closer to the pool, the drink in the scent of the flowers, and something abput his reflection caught his eye. He stared at it for ages, but couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.

His reflection? It struck him like a weight between his shoulderblades. He had not had a reflection for centuries, not since he had been bitten and turned. He stared into the depths of the pool, and began to weep, real tears, not tears of blood, as he had wept for so long. He pulled of the gloves on his hands, and noted that the damage seemed to have healed, and that they were no longer blackened with corruption. Tentatively, he reached out, and touched a lilly. He closed his eyes tight, and waited for the searing pain to begin as the plant died at his caress, but it never came. He looked down upon the healthy flower and began to laugh. he was feeling a little warm now, and with a start he realised that the sun was rising, and it's rays falling across his body. he lay back on the grace and wept and laughed, and, once more, felt alive.


End file.
